


Imaginary Parties

by a-waste-of-time-and-hot-glue (falloutboiruto)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Pining, crowley; a gay anxious mess, fluff with sad ending??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutboiruto/pseuds/a-waste-of-time-and-hot-glue
Summary: He could, in theory, inch his hand closer and closer to Aziraphale’s until their fingers would touch.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Imaginary Parties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReaperDuckling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaperDuckling/gifts).



> this fanfic is a christmas gift for my very good friend and fellow ao3 user reaperduckling. MERRY CRIMEMAS you beautiful bastard! and thank you for betareading my 30+ boruto fanfics even though you don't even watch the show hehe
> 
> and happy holidays to all!
> 
> title from: imaginary parties by superfruit(a song)

They were sitting on a bench, outside, in a park. The weather and time of day didn’t matter much as Aziraphale’s hand was in grab-able distance to Crowley’s hand. Crowley noticed this because that was something he thought about often, or almost all of the time. He could, in theory, inch his hand closer and closer to Aziraphale’s until their fingers would touch. Maybe Aziraphale would look away, just as embarrassed and bumbling as Crowley would feel, like the awkward teenagers that they both were the opposite of. Or, or _maybe_ his eyes would meet Crowley’s. Aziraphale could smile, warm like he described the cocoa he’d drink during the wintertime being like.

_(“It looks kind of muddy,” Crowley had said one time during one cold evening spent in the bookshop together, unthoughtfullness spilling out of his mouth much like fluid out of a cup runneth over. He had regretted saying it as soon as the words left his lips._

_“More for me then, my dear,” Aziraphale had answered, giddy but with an undertone of chiding. He’d taken another sip of his ‘cocoa’, and grimaced. “Actually, it is a little bit muddy. Maybe I made it wrong?”_

_Crowley had giggled, squeakier than any sound he had thought his voice box could produce.)_

Maybe it could go like that, if only Crowley had the courage to move his damn hand. Well, to be fair he had tried before. Lots of times. He’d thought that once the immediate threat of being viciously killed by the forces of both heaven and hell over being simply friends had disappeared, he and Aziraphale would just… become _a thing_. That they’d fall into each other’s arms, into each other’s beds, and find themselves in a full-on self-indulgent domestic fantasy. Crowley could wash the dishes whenever Aziraphale had eaten something (seemed nicer, somehow, than just miracling them clean and dry), and Aziraphale could fall asleep on the couch reading a good book (even though he certainly didn’t need to sleep).

All of these needy fantasies were so incredibly human, and perhaps that was why they never could work out.

“Are you trying to hold my hand?” Aziraphale suddenly asked, the question hanging in the crisp night air like the sharpened blade of a guillotine.

“ _No_ ,” Crowley said, quickly, backtracking, suddenly very preoccupied with fixing an unruly strand of his hair rather than thinking of the surely oh so soft skin of Aziraphale’s fingers, his palms, his wrists.

“Because if you were, my dear, it would be most welcome.”

“Haha, good one,” Crowley snarked, like Aziraphale had instead made a funny quip about some classic literature thing that he deeply cared for and Crowley had read instantly afterwards in a feeble hope of being able to impress him. Upon seeing Aziraphale’s very much offended responding facial expression, he wasn’t as sure that was what had just happened.

“Well, I could take my hand elsewhere if that’s what you want,” Aziraphale huffed. “But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.”

“Wait, you _know w_ hat I really want?”

“Really, Crowley. It’s been _six thousand years_.”

Aziraphale made a grab for Crowley’s right hand, and yep, his skin was extremely soft. Crowley’s hand was a little bit sweaty, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind.

“This is nice,” Aziraphale said. “We should do this more often.”

“Well-Uh _. Eh_. Hm. There are other things I want to do, but only if you want to, of course!”

Aziraphale did that thing Crowley desperately wanted him to, he smiled. The corners of his eyes got all crinkly and his eyes sparkled.

“Like what?” He said, teasingly. Crowley’s insides spontaneously combusted, but Aziraphale just squeezed his hand. “We can figure that out when we get to it,” he added his face crinkling in joy again.

And then, Crowley woke up. Alone, and vaguely sad. Maybe some day.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments if you like dis lmao


End file.
